


Talk some sense to me

by Resri



Series: Silver Linings [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Falling In Love, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Corvo Attano/Daud, Parent Corvo Attano, Parent Daud (Dishonored), Past Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship, working through some stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resri/pseuds/Resri
Summary: It all started with a gray shirt. A gray shirt and its grumpy owner and a feeling Corvo didn't think he would feel again. Now, the question was, should he follow where it leads?
Relationships: Corvo Attano & Delilah Copperspoon, Corvo Attano & Emily Kaldwin, Daud & The Whalers (Dishonored), Delilah Copperspoon & Daud
Series: Silver Linings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1486691
Comments: 26
Kudos: 59





	1. Warning Sign

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the next installment in the Silver Linings Series. I hope you like it <3

It all started with the gray shirt. It was a really nice gray shirt, and even though it didn't quite fit around the shoulders, Corvo liked it. Its owner, on the other hand, he wasn't so sure about. First of all, he was a lawyer. Some of Delilah's lawyer friends Corvo had met over the years were a bit on the snobby side. The kind who only had plenty of very expensive dress shirts and wore them at all times, be it for work, a casual dinner or a stroll in the park. Corvo usually only ever saw Daud when he was following Delilah up the stairs, the two of them loudly and passionately discussing something work related (yelling about the other being an ass), or when he was going to work in the morning. On those occasions he was wearing suits Corvo was pretty sure costed more than three months of rent. Even on the fateful day Corvo had first borrowed the gray shirt, he'd only seen Daud in a suit and tie, despite the chaos of the morning. So it came as a surprise, a few weeks later, to find always-put-together Daud in sweatpants and a faded hoodie. Corvo had opened the window at the end of the hallway on the 4th floor to air it after burning a whole pot of milk. The stink was unimaginable and was not contained by his apartment, so he had run. Daud was sitting on the fire escape, smoking a cigarette and glaring up at Corvo. 

"The fuck is that smell?"

"What, you've never burned milk before?" he snarked back, and climbed out of the window to escape his mistakes. Daud, who was sprawled over three steps, did not scoot over, so Corvo just stepped over him and sat a little further up. That meant that Daud had to crane his neck to look at him. Served him right. Since he'd never been on the fire escape before, he took in the sights, namely the side of the neighboring building, and the alley below.

"Nice view," he commented, just to break the awkward silence. Daud gave him a dubious look. True, all he saw was a brick wall with some graffiti on it, but the rising sun was shining directly into the alley, and the morning fog had yet to dissipate. It gave the shitty scenery a mystical look. Daud offered him his cigarette wordlessly, but Corvo waved him off. 

"Thanks, no. I didn't know you smoked," Corvo said, and of course he didn't, he only knew Daud by the things Delilah told him. 

"I don't, mostly," Daud answered. "Smoked a lot when I grew up. When I became a Rudshore, I had to follow some house rules, so I stopped. The old man would sit me down and interrogate me like a witness, it was horrible.” He took a drag, a sly grin on his face as he looked down onto the street. “Now it's the odd few when it's been one of those weeks, you know?" 

"Became? Oh, are you-" Corvo stopped himself, knowing that it was a rude question to ask, but Daud nodded and answered, "Yeah. I'm from Karnaca, only met Rudshore senior in my teenage years. White as a sheet, I thought he was some tourist at first. Turned out to be my lawyer." Daud laughed, still not looking at Corvo. "He took me in afterwards."

"Huh. I see a pattern."

"Yeah. Looks like you can inherit stuff from people you're not even blood related to."

"Ever thought of going back?" Corvo asked, surprised by Daud’s openness. He did not expect the shuttered look on his face that followed the question, though. 

"I tried," Daud said, tone neutral. "Couldn't make it more than a year and a half. Some memories should stay just that, you know?" Before Corvo could make a comment, Daud continued, "You're hailing from Serkonos, too, right?"

"Yes! Karnaca, same as you," Corvo explained, but didn't linger on their shared heritage. "I joined the police force when I was eighteen. Came to Dunwall in a training exchange and got stuck." Because of Jess, he didn't add. She was the daughter of the mayor at the time, and came to visit the precinct with her father to shake hands and promote the program. They started talking since they were the two youngest people in the room. Jess had offered to show him the sights on the weekend, and he had gladly accepted, charmed as he was by her. The program lasted for three months, which was enough time to know that he couldn't leave her behind. He went back to Karnaca long enough to get himself a transfer, and Jess a ruby necklace he couldn't afford. Karnaca was the jewel of the south, after all, and Jess was his. She'd told him he was crazy, and kissed him again. Two years later they had been married with Emily on the way.  
Daud looked about as ready to talk about his childhood as Corvo was about his wife, so they settled for more awkward silence. They sat there, contemplating things they maybe shouldn’t, Corvo worrying the skin around his nails, Daud chain smoking his way through half the pack. Some teenagers passed down below, loud and cajoling each other, never the wiser that eyes were following them until they turned the corner. 

Daud put the pack away and lit what seemed to be the final cigarette of the day, and broke the silence. "Don't go telling my kids about the smoking. They shouldn't get it in their heads that it's okay."

"Promise. Your clothes will smell, though." 

Daud shrugged, and took another drag. 

"I gotta put a load in the washer anyway," he said, pulling at his sweater. Only then did Corvo notice the writing on it. 

"'Okayest Lawyer of the world'?" he read aloud. The ugly snort that came out of Daud was funny enough to momentarily ban the gloom of their previous topics. 

"A present from Billie," he explained. "She thinks she's funny. The problem is it's the comfiest god damned sweater I ever owned. It's got fleece on the inside and all."

"Nice."

With the ice broken, they settled into less dangerous topics after that. Daud asked how Corvo liked being a PI. Surprisingly well, even if it was a little disheartening how many people suspected their spouses of cheating, and were right. The work reminded him of his days as a police officer. Investigating, collecting clues, questioning witnesses or suspects. He’d enjoyed those. The long night stake outs in winter a little less, but they, too, were part of the job. Daud wanted to know if Sam was exclusively working for Brigmore, or if other law firms could hire them, too. Corvo informed him that they were open to all kinds of business (to which Daud snickered like some preteen), but that he wasn't going to do anything that would make Delilah kick him out of her apartment. 

“Shame,” was Daud’s only response to that, and the evil smirk he sported was a tad worrying. 

They parted ways, Daud taking the fire escape a level down, Corvo through the window. It still stunk of burned milk and failure, but at least it didn’t make his stomach revolt any longer. Later, when he went down into the washroom he would find the drier occupied with a load of expensive lawyer clothing and a single, black hoodie. The washing machine in the Rudshore household was broken again, apparently. Over stuffing his own clothes into the washer, Corvo came to the conclusion that while Daud's dress shirts were all very fancy, he liked their owner the best in his comfy old sweater that was a present from his kid. The dad look was a good look on him.


	2. Focal Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was after a long day in the car (Sam's, Corvo still didn't have one) and an unplanned chase on foot through the alleys and backstreets of the Distillery District. Corvo came to a realisation. It had been creeping up on him over the last few weeks and finally hit him with the same force he hit his fleeing suspect with when he was finally close enough for a tackle. Out of breath, his heart hammered away, his joints ached from sitting in the cramped car for so long, he might have pulled something jumping that fence. He just knew his muscles would be protesting vehemently getting out of bed tomorrow. Corvo wasn't twenty anymore, and his time as single dad and widower had taken its toll on his training regimen. He needed to go to the gym.

It was after a long day in the car (Sam's, Corvo still didn't have one) and an unplanned chase on foot through the alleys and backstreets of the Distillery District. Corvo came to a realisation. It had been creeping up on him over the last few weeks and finally hit him with the same force he hit his fleeing suspect with when he was finally close enough for a tackle. Out of breath, his heart hammered away, his joints ached from sitting in the cramped car for so long, he might have pulled something jumping that fence. He just knew his muscles would be protesting vehemently getting out of bed tomorrow. Corvo wasn't twenty anymore, and his time as single dad and widower had taken its toll on his training regimen. He needed to go to the gym.

Since his former gym (from before the accident that changed his life) was on the other side of the river, it would be prudent to consider something closer. He clicked through the homepages of the gyms closest to the apartment, which advertised their fancy equipment and saunas and threw words like dojo and spiritual journey around. Right. The people in the Estate District would probably pay extra to be trained by a Tyvian black belt world champion they had to call sensei. Corvo wondered if it was worth the horrendous membership fees. If only he knew someone personally who he could ask.  
Two minutes later he stood in front of Daud's door. After all, the buttons on his neighbor's dress shirts perpetually looked like they were one flex away from exploding off. A light scraping sound informed Corvo that somebody was looking through the spy hole, so he put on his most charming smile. The door opened, but only a hand’s breadth, kept in place by the chain. Billie looked out at him, her expression a mixture of annoyance, distrust and boredom. Corvo still wasn’t sure why he deserved her dislike or if she just had a problem with new people, but he considered dealing with her as training for Emily‘s teenage years. Below her the narrow but massive head of the wolfhound ogled up at him, sharp eyes tracking his every movement. He was friendly enough, Corvo had realised in a run in with his master after they came home from a jog. Daud had been sweaty and out of breath, wearing a wine red long sleeved t-shirt that clung to his damp skin, while the dog had happily whacked his tail and danced around his owner as if they had been for a leisurely stroll and could go for another round right then. That monstrous puppy also took his job of guarding the Rudshore household quite seriously. Corvo could respect that.

“What?” Billie asked, her tone flat.

“Hi!” he exclaimed brightly. “Is your da-Daud home?”

Wordlessly, she closed the door and left Corvo standing in the hallway. Moments passed, and he was beginning to wonder if she simply hadn’t felt like telling him no and left him waiting for nothing like an idiot, but then the sound of the chain being undone rattled from the other side and the door swung open to reveal Daud. The dog pushed his way past Daud’s legs and started sniffing Corvo’s shoes, and began gently whacking his tail. 

“Muffin,” Daud admonished, and Corvo still found it ridiculous and terrifying that this calf of a dog was named Muffin. “What’s up?” he greeted Corvo, who carefully patted Muffin’s enormous skull. 

“Hi. I wanted to ask you something, if you have a moment.”

“Do you need the grey dress shirt again?” Daud asked.

“What? No, no thanks. Actually, I realised I needed to go to the gym regularly again, and wanted to know if you could recommend one to me. You know, on this side of the river, preferably.” 

Daud pondered that, and then smirked, and said, “I sure do.”

~

“Soooo, you know the owner?” Corvo asked as they walked into the Dead Eel Gym. It didn’t look like the place fancy lawyers would normally go to. The building itself appeared to be an old warehouse, red brick under chipping paint and decades worth of posters, high windows way up from the ground. The inside wasn’t much different, with the old school boxing ring in the middle and the different workout machines on the far wall. The few clients that were milling around fit the scenery. Shuttered glances and rough skin, lots of scars and more tattoos. A weird mixture of ex military and ex cons. On the other hand, if one looked at Daud and not his attire, with his cold eyes and the giant scar, the resting bitchface and the muscle, he _did_ fit right in. 

“Yeah. I was her lawyer. And from before.”

“Before?”

Daud led the way along the boxing ring to the changing rooms. 

“Before we both washed up in Dunwall.” 

They changed and stashed their bags in the locker room. It was early monday morning and the usual pre-work crowd milled around. Some people greeted Daud and made small talk, and he went ahead and introduced Corvo as “my new neighbor”. In that fashion, Corvo met a mountain of a man named Kieron, who was apparently the best baker in Drapers Ward, and a lady named Quinn, who told him that, should he ever want a piercing or some ink, he should drop by her work and she’d make him a special offer.   
That did not stop Corvo from catching a glance, and then a good stare, at Daud’s naked back when he changed out of his shirt. Broad and muscled of course, as the clothed version promised. What came as a surprise were the tattoos. Black lines curved over taut skin and gnarly scars, and moved with the shift of muscle under the surface. The design covered an entire shoulder blade and stretched down the upper arm and over ribs. It evolved around a symbol in its center. Corvo knew that symbol from his days in Karnaca. One didn’t have to be a cop to recognize it, since it had been tagged all over the city years ago, but he sure had more experience than others. Had seen it at crime scenes and on suspects. The lines on Daud were faded, blurry with age, not as stark as they undoubtedly had been a long time ago.   
Then fabric covered skin and ink again as Daud shrugged on a shirt. He had noticed Corvo staring, as their gazes met in mirrored deer-in-the-headlights-looks. When Corvo’s only reaction was to uselessly open and close his mouth, Daud jugged his bag into a locker. Then he wordlessly nodded towards the door before he turned, leaving Corvo to follow him out of the changing room. The atmosphere was tense now, and he caught a considering sideways glance that was quickly aborted when he returned it. 

“What do you do, usually?” Corvo blurted as they stepped back into the training hall, desperate to keep his voice friendly, to get them talking about something innocent, just to lighten the mood.

There was a huff, but he was answered anyway. “Weights, sparring if somebody’s up for it. Lizzy, mostly, when she’s here.” Daud was opting for a casual tone. “I get my cardio in with Muffin, so no need for that.” 

Corvo chuckled at the absurdity of that sentence, and felt himself relax a little when Daud shot him a quick smile. 

“I’ll introduce you to the boss before we start,” he rumbled, and waved at the window to what must have been the foreman’s office on the second floor of the building. Behind it, something moved, and a moment later the door opened to reveal a woman. She marched down the stairs, and Corvo followed Daud to meet her at the bottom. Half her head was shaved, the rest of her hair was kept out of her face with a red bandana. The fabric also covered part of a scar on her forehead that reached from her former hairline all the way down to her eyebrow. Tentacle tattoos wrapped around it. More of the same faded ink covered her right arm and shoulder. She had a boxer’s nose and a lip that had once been split so bad it had to be sewed up. 

“Daud, you ugly fuck, where have you been?” she called out, punching Daud in the shoulder before pulling him into a hug. 

“I’ve been here, twice a week, every week, like always. It’s not my fault you’d rather spend all your time on your shitty boat than in the ring.”

She gasped in mock outrage. 

“The _Undine_ is not a boat, she’s a beautiful ship, you filthy bloodsucker!” 

“She isn’t even sea worthy anymore. I can’t believe you actually sailed her all the way from Serkonos once.”

“Well, we don’t all got a rich lawyer daddy paying for a flight.” 

“Or a rich business mogul daddy paying for our Gyms.”

She grinned at that, broad and mean and not happy at all, and said, “Exactly.” Then she turned her gaze on Corvo. 

“Who’s this beef steak?” she asked, and those words from the most terrifying looking woman he had ever met made Corvo actually blush. It was terrible. Daud looked like he would relish in telling Delilah all about it once he got home. 

“New neighbor. Corvo Attano, this is Lizzy Stride, the owner of this dump. He’s looking for a new gym, and I thought I’d show him around before you go out of business.” 

They shook hands. The welcome Lizzy gave him was not precisely warm, but she delivered it with a shit eating grin, which Corvo was too afraid to interpret. For a horrible moment he thought that her teeth looked pointier than they ought to be. When she turned her attention back to Daud he told himself he only imagined it. She said, “You up for a little dance today?”

“Not with you, I’m not,” Daud replied. “I have to be in a meeting later, I can’t show up with bite marks in my face again. See ya.” With that, he walked off, and Corvo awkwardly waved at Lizzy before hurrying after him, processing that statement. He tried to keep an inconspicuous eye out on her, who flipped them off, and marched back up the stairs to her office. 

After warm up, Daud went to lift weights, and Corvo let his mind wander on the treadmill.   
He thought back to the little tidbits of information he had gathered about his neighbor over the last few months. It was nearly a reflex from his days in the force that hadn’t gone away during his stint as stay-at-home dad and grieving widower. There were lists in his mind, inhabiting the cobwebbed cupboards far in the back that collected dodats and whatsits all on their own, and that he only ever opened consciously if he needed to find out what made the person in front of him tick. A good quality for someone working as PI, for sure.   
What had he ever seen of Daud? He was a protective and caring father to his four adopted children who obviously had him wrapped around their fingers. He was a good if vitriolic friend to Delilah. He had a bit of a temper if he perceived someone to be an asshole, but was generally ready to help whenever Corvo came knocking, even back when Corvo had been the perceived asshole. He owned a dog named Muffin.   
Then again, the gang tattoo covering half his back was pretty unambiguous. The scars on his knuckles may be so faded they were nearly invisible, but they had the look of having been healed over and ripped open again a hundred times. There had been more gnarly white lines on his back, underneath and around that tattoo. His nose had been broken too often without ever being set correctly. Corvo knew where the scar in his face came from, a tale Delilah had told him a while back, but those others? They were from a different life. A life long past, he could only assume. Daud had come to Dunwall as a teenager, freshly minted Rudshore by his lawyer turned father, and had followed in his footsteps in more than one way. Maybe in all the ways that counted. The streets did terrible things to their people if nobody cared enough to help. Corvo had seen it enough growing up; Void, Corvo had barely avoided walking that path himself. It was on him now to decide if the past mattered more than the present. 

After a while he abandoned the treadmill and circled through to the weights, and was finally approached by the object of his contemplations. 

“Alright?” Daud asked when Corvo sat up and took a few deep breaths. 

“Yeah,” he answered, surprised that he cared enough to come check on him. 

“You sure?” Daud asked again, and there was more in the question. A disquiet, maybe even pensiveness. Here he was, in the middle of a space filled with tough looking people that came from tough places, and they were gym owners and lawyers and bakers and tattoo artists, and Daud worried that Corvo cared about the past. 

So he answered, “Fine, actually!” and beamed up at Daud who watched him with bemusement. “It’s nice here, I like it. I’ll get a membership. Do you think you’re up for sparring some time?” and, because he was feeling mischievous and relieved, he added, ”I even promise not to bite.” 

That startled a laugh out of Daud. He nodded, grinning, and said, “I think that can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comment make the heart grow fonder.
> 
> If anyone feels like chatting, you can find me on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dangerousmoron


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